I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, f 
I ?5+»^9 — t 

#|l'^'? |,»P8"SM S° # 

# # 

J UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. |l 

10 <!e>'%-^'*''%'<*--*»^fc*'fe <*>■%.'%.•«>«.«>'* '*''%''«6-S I 



The Legend of 



St. Olaf 's Kirk. 




BOSTON : 
ESTES cS: LAURIA r 

r8<So. 



The LEGEND 



o 



ST. OLAF'S KIRK, 



%h 



GEORCiE, H()LH;HT()N, 

Author of " Chuistmas Booklet," "Songs from over the Ska," " Pennv for vori< 
'riiortiins," "Album I.eaxks," HkiI'T ik'om Vokk ITakhiii;, Maine," kyv. 



.. \^ OF 






HOSTON : 
KS'l'ES .\; I.AUklAT. 

1 8cSo. 



n-- 






Copyright 1880, Geo. W. W. Houghton. 



CO NTENTS 



PARI- KIRSI' 



Axel and Prince Hakon, 
The AV//i,'"'.f Birthday, 
The Spaaquiiiii, 
St. Olaf's Kirk, 
The Bells, . 



J 
II 

14 

20 

25 
33 



HART SlX'oXi). 



The Straih^e Knight, 

The ]]' riling of the SworJ, 

The Feast of ll'eleonie. 

The Foray, 



39 
46 

53 

58 



PART FIRST. 

Scene, Norway. Period, A into Domini 1150. 

I. Valborg. 

His name was Axel Tordsen ; Valborg, hers. 

In Norway both were nurtured, whose green vales. 

Tucked in between the shadows of snow horns, 

Have cradled many a hero; Nidaros 

Their home, — now Throndheim, throne-home of the kings, 

And still the crowning-place. Of royal strain 

Was Axel, boon companion of the Prince ; 

And she was kin to both, the last sad gift 

Of fair VVynhilda, lady of the court. 

Who, new to motherhood, had from a swoon 

Aroused, asked that the little one be set 

Before her, kissed it once or twice, moaned low, 

And with large, wistful eyes still fixed on it, 

Telling the anguish the poor lips could not. 

Had wept, turned sidewise that she yet might gaze, 

And died thus gazing. Whereupon, the babe. 

Awed by the sudden stillness, ceased to wail, 

And from a near room, echo like, arose 

The sobbing of another, fuller lunged, — 

The man-child Axel. 

Comely Valborg grew ; 
Her wondrous eyes, blue as the summer sky, 
Were brimmed with sunshine, overflowed, and filled 



TJic Legend of St. 0/af's Kirk. 

With something of their own sweet gladness all 
Who fathomed them, — all save the haughty Queen, 
Who on one fete-night, seeing from afar 
The girl's slight figure slip from group to group, 
Welcomed by all folk, to King Magnus leaned 
And whispered: " Is it well our daughter's moon 
Be thus outsplendored ?" Whereto he replied: 
" Have patience, Thora ; when our son 's of age 
Two daughters shalt thou mother." 

Axel's eyes 
Oft sought for Valborg, and flashed gray to black 
When at the lattice he espied her face 
Watching the squires at training; and in turn 
Her own shone bluer, seeing him foremost. 
Or darkened when departure seemed at hand, 
And buckling on his trouviers, yelp of dogs 
And bray of horns long following, he crossed 
The frozen Elv, red with the northern glow, 
To track the moose and reindeer. Smileless then, 
She strayed into the court, marked where he trod, 
Sipped from the gourd just tasted by his lips. 
Caressed the she-bear that his hand had touched, 
And for a half-hour felt her feet less light, 
Her fingers clumsier. 

" Valborg," asked the Queen 
One morning as the menfolk went away, 
The Prince and Axel 'mong them, and dull-eyed 
The girl took up her goldthread, — "Valborg, child, 
I find thy judgment clear; which deemest thou 
The fairest of these youths?" 

Knowing she blushed 
Valborg looked ciown, and answered soberly : 
" I have no right to judge, — I saw but one." 



Valborg. 

"Which one was that?" pursued the Queen, and sHpped 
One arm about her, drawing her more close. 
But Valborg would not tell. 

Even from that day 
The Princess dressed no costlier, and when next 
The yule-log blazed, and from each drifted grange 
Was thrust an unthreshed barley sheaf to give 
The snow-birds greeting, 'mong her gifts shone forth 
A jeweled harp, together with these words 
From Thora : " Child, thy tongue with this in tune 
Will sometime call a courtier to thy feet ; 
Choose then the likeliest, who can offer thee 
Most honor ; try the time-beat of his pulse. 
And woman's wit will prompt thee by which lay. 
Plaintive or glad, love-warmed or valorous. 
To leash and tether him." 

Thereby it came 
That Friar Knud, the tutor of the Prince, 
Was bidden to teach its use ; and week by week 
With lessening weariness and growing love 
Her deft hands learned to chase the melody 
From string to string through mazy harmonies. 
Until the instrument, jealous at first 
And obstinate, became a willing slave. 
Seemed part of her, and Valborg and her harp 
W^ere mouthpiece of the household. Winter nights, 
When weary with long sloth the roisterers lounged 
About the men's-hall, yawning for clear sky, 
Sudden the clamor of their tongues would cease. 
The air grow clearer so the rafters came 
In sight, and from them, like a summer rain 
To dry and pinched-up herbage, softly fall 
The warm, sweet restfulness of voice and strings. 



7 



The Legend of St. 0/af's Kirk. 

Sometimes she sang old sagas, the ripe verse 
Of song-smiths from a vigorous age long past, 
Fresh with salt sea-breeze, warm with lusty blood, 
Filling their hearts with June, and bringing them 
Whose knees were 'neath the tables, beard to beard 
And horn to horn with Olaf's merry court, — ■ 
The elders silent, glad to hear retold 
The tales, familiar, of their downthrown eods. 
Not utterly unloved though altarless. 
Again she led them, following the flight 
Of Leif the lucky, who with raven guide 
Hounding the sun, first pierced that shadowy realm. 
The Sea of Darkness, and in the sounding surf 
Off Kjalarness in Vinland boldly pitched 
His seat-posts, bidding them swim forth and find 
Convenient harborage. This tale of Leif 
Was like a wand that felled their frosty walls. 
Shot sunlight 'cross the sea-crests, and above 
Upon the mirror of o'er-roofing heaven, 
Mirage-like trembling into form, disclosed 
The wonders of the West, — that long-lost land 
Where summer played the truant all the year, 
Where brooks sang over beds of gravelly gold, 
And native grapes, ungrafted and untilled. 
Trailed purpling to the greensward, broken-skinned 
And bubbling forth their sweetness. 

When she ceased 
Deep silence followed, every face intent 
Upon the firebrands, till some whaleman spake 
Of seeing ersttime in an Iceland home 
A copper bowl, long handled, brought by Leif 
From over-seas, wherefrom (the legend ran) 
The Vinlandcrs quaffed fire, were for a space 



Valborg. 

Consumed, and when the wreathing smoke had cleared, 
Behold ! they had cast off their slough of years 
And were grown sound and jocund. 

Whereupon 
Some youth would link his story to the last. 
Saying he had from Vinland fresher news 
By three half centuries, and pass around 
A strange brown bean, banded and streakt with blood, 
Wrecked by the breakers of a sou 'west gale 
Upon the holm-bar. 

Then with flagging speech 
Again all eyes would turn to Valborg's harp. 
And unasked she would answer. All folk loved 
The blue-eyed singer,^Axel not the least. 
She called him " brother Axel," but one eve 
He answered : " Valborg, do not call me that, 
For sometime, when I 've gained my spurs of gold. 
And ride, a knight-at-arms by Magnus, — wife 
I wish to make thee." 

" Yes," she said, " I know." 
"Who told thee?" 

" No one, — no one but thyself." 
" I never said so." 

" Nor was there the need." 

Now when the moon was high, and Axel slipped 
Together with the Prince beneath the robes 
Of cat and wolfskin, chattering from the cold, 
He told Prince Hakon this, who looked at him 
With eyes less kind than common, but no word 
To show he listened. Close to Hakon's side 
He nestled, and soon slept ; but long the Prince 
Lay wide-eyed, restless, tossing to and fro, 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

Long hearkened to the riot in the hall, 

To pouring mead, to spinning of stone dice 

'Neath heavy fists that smote the gammon-boards, 

And to the breathing, easy as a babe's, 

Of him whose limbs lay warm against his own ; 

And when the sleeper's hand was toward him turned 

Bore on it, till a sigh escaped the lips 

Beside him, and a voice as from a dream 

Cried, " Hakon, help me ! " while a soft, warm arm 

Stole o'er and tightened 'round him ; then unclasped. 

As if the help it sued for had been found. 



II, Axel and Prince Hakon. 



Three years took wings. Axel, now grown a man, 
Had won his spurs and place beside his king. 
No more a squire, a squire attended him ; 
And in his chamber, one of the royal suite, 
Hung many a shield quartered in blue and white, 
Broad-gashed and war-stained, trophies of proud days 
When he with picked companions hip to hip, 
Had flung the foes of Norland from her bounds. 
His glance was like an eagle's, straight and keen. 
And added to the vigor of his words 
Sunbeams or lightning. 

One May morn it fell 
As Valborg came from minster, ere her hands 
Could lend each other succor and escape 
She found them both in Axel's. " Valborg, mine. 
To others prodigal thou art with song ; 
Sing once to me, that I may feel the words 
(Perchance more telltale to thy harp than me,) 
Are mine and only mine ; promise me this ! " 
And Valborg promised, and the hour was set. 

That night it rained, with puffs of gusty wind 
Fresh from the snow liorns. But he minded not, 
And long before the time stood closely cloaked 
Below the oriel in the women's court ; 
Whence looking up he saw the curtains sway. 



The Lfi^e/id of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

Saw the brii^ht outlines of a harp and one 
Behind it robed in white, and heard her say, 
As to the bevy of girls who circled her : 
" A minne-song I promised ; here it is, 
And to the ears that give the closest heed 
Belong the words." 

Melodious began 
The prelude, rich with changing symphonies, 
Sending the world far spinning" into space 
And lifting the rapt listener to a realm 
Of finer feehng. Then above the strings 
Arose her voice, first like a far-off sigh, 
Betokening love's beginnings, wordless still ; 
Now gaining confidence, and flushed with hope 
Climbing to higher, ever gladdening strains ; 
Till buried by the deepening chords, the voice 
Was lost and all the melody confused. 
There seemed \-ague wanderings without a goal, 
Hovering of wings without the power of flight, 
A seeking for some unknoA\-n, needful thing, 
A sweeping of the strings to find one note 
That ever, as she followed it, took flight ; 
And when at last it hovered within grasp, 
And voice and harp arose in unison 
To snare the perfect ending, — with a twang 
The string brake off, and \\\\\\ a timorous cry 
The note escaped and the unfinished song 
Clashed into dissonance. 

She started up. 
Pushed from her breast the quivering instrument, 
And from the window — suddenh' become 
A. hollow of gloom within the gloomy wall, — 
There fell a myrtle spray. He stooped for it, 



Axe/ ami Piiiicc Hakoii. 

And rising suddenly, sidewise perceived 

A shadow in an angle of the wall, 

That crouched, and crawling, stealthily drew back ; 

Then heeding the low challenge Axel sent. 

Retreated to the gateway. " By what right," 

Spoke Axel fiercely, " art thou straggler here ? " 

" Same right as thine,— because it is my will." 

"And now, because I will it, get thee gone! " 

A moment passed. The stranger stood his ground, 
Strode forward, threatening, then fell back a pace ; 
From rattling scabbards whipped two blades of steel 
With lightning flash, slitting the robe of night, 
Then tried their temper once, and twice, and thrice, 
Clashing out sparks. The shadow's line grew less 
In height as if the stature 'neath it dropped 
Upon the knee, and panting for fresh air 
The stranger flung his cloak aside,— when lo ! 
The crown-prince shranl^'behind it, lips apart. 
Trembling with rage, and lifting a white hand 
Swarc lifelong vengeance. 

Knowing naught of this 
Or of his foe, but fearing that some plot 
Or treachery might menace, Axel crept 
Within the court, and by the barbacan 
Kept secret guard until the sentinels 
Were changed, and from the towers the trumpeters 
Aroused the echoes from their eyries perched 
Among the hills o'erhead, and one by one 
Undid the eyelids of the drowsy town. 



III. The King's Birthday 



In hay-month fell the King's birth-festival. 
When at the north in ever visible course 
The red sun circled, linking week to week, 
Wedding the passionate noonday with its mild, 
Sweet counterfeit, the drowsy midnight, roused 
From sleep by soft caresses of the sun. 
With gay processions and unstinted feasts 
The day was honored, and this fiftieth 
The King had set his heart upon to mark 
With unused pageantry, — part urged by pride, 
Part forecast of those hasty musterings 
When Dovre's cliffs, with terrible shouts of war 
Far echoing, should snatch their ox-pelt shields 
And hurl a hurricane of brand and sword 
Upon the valleys ; or the fiord awake 
To find its highway to the of^ng stopped 
By pirate craft, — times when the Norland crown 
Might any hour be banded, fist to fist. 
By any who begrudged it. As chief prize. 
The helt foremost in mounted fray might claim 
The key to Norland's treasures, — landed rights. 
Or lordship, privilege, wife of high degree,- — 
The choice of any largess that the throne 
Had at disposal. 

Until noon was past 
The field was given up to ruder sports : 



14 



The Kings Birthday. 

Foot-races, free to all, and feats of strength, 
Pleasing the commoners, to whose loud mouths 
Success or utter rout seemed quite the same 
So long as there were roughness. 

Then the joust ; 
Each fresh-groomed steed from stables of the King 
Chosen for him from many a royal mews 
Sacked by freebooters, — -some from Angle-land 
Or shores of Normandy, some Spanish bred, 
Fleet-hoof'd Arabians ; and the knights that rode, 
Dukes, jarls and herzers, haughty and light-haired. 
Were all of royal lineage, — at their head 
Prince Hakon, ruddy faced, and by his side 
Sir Axel, younger by a year, and slight. 
The last all loved, and as his stallion passed 
The stagings, cheers went up, and not a few 
Laid wagers on him. 

" Valborg," said the Prince, 
'' The spaaquinn tells me that success this day 
Lies in thy riband. Pray thee, let it plume 
My helmet." 

" Pardon, liege, but half of it 
Already reddens one." 

He answered not. 
But at the bugle beck, mid rounds of cheers, 
Across the plain captained his waiting corps, 
Steel clad, sonorous, sending back the sun 
A thousand lightning flashes ; and thick dust 
Uprolling, covered where they went. 

For hours 
The warring lasted ; pair by pair they strove, 
Till now there rested only two, the Prince 
And Axel. When these gained the middle field. 



15 



The LrgciK/ of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

y\iKl Axel saw his focniaii aiul was told 
This was the finish, IcttiiiL;" fall his lance: 
" My Iie<;e the King, to him award the prize 
It best becomes, — I, Axel, do withdraw ! " 

The King, well minded it should be so : " Son, — 
And well we wish thou wert our second son, — 
So be it, and to thee the secoiul choice, 
E'en though it be our daughter, and with her 
A moiety of our kingship after us. — 
Name then th)- choice ! " 

But meanwhile, 'mong the mob 
Of herders, whalemen and horn-handed folk 
Fresh from the ox-goad and the kemelin. 
There rose a tumult ; fierce to see the end, 
These in the ominous pause beheld the last 
And tlaintiest of their day's sport plucked away, — 
And some held w eighty wagers thus undone, 
While others, more remote and knowing" not 
The cause, launched loud-mouthed rumors 'gainst the Prince 
Of foul i)lay, — that Sir Axel had been drugged, 
That threats withheld his hands, elsewise so strong. 
In favor of the Prince, dislike of whom, 
Or at the best indifference, to tlame 
b'lashed suddenl)'. Ouick through the rabble ran 
The lust of mutin)' : " Axel, let us see ! " 
" The\' 've butchered him !" — " The Prince dealt e\-il blow !" 
" We'will have Axel ! " 

Which news having tlown 
B}- hurr\ing messengers to the smiling King, 
And with his own eyes seeing here and there 
The bounds thrown down and a tumultuous mob 
Approaching, quick he bade his trumpeter 

i6 



The Kin^^'s Birthday. 

Shout forth this proclamation: " Hold your peace ! 
The prize is not }'et dowered ; still remain 
Two swords uiisplintered ; Axel with the Prince 
Will now try metal. Thus the throne decrees ! " 

One minute, and before the herald's cheeks 

Had lost their swollenness, the freshening breeze 

Had blown the message into every ear ; 

And from the tall hills round about came back 

The words, seven times repeated : " Throne decrees ! " 

" Decrees ! " and — " Thus the throne decrees ! " So died 

The clamor, and the summer storm was stilled. 

The sea of sand, wrecked o'er with shattered steel, 

Lay sparkling ; and the curious sun, half hid 

Behind a gathering cloud-bank, dallied, flushed 

With interest. Two shapes of bronze stood forth 

The horsemen, — one with helmet favorless, 

One flecked with sparks of red, that had withstood 

The rain of forty lances. 

Like a week 
Of days, this day to Valborg ; since high noon 
She had kept place upon the highest bench 
Where Axel left her, these words on his lips : 
" Hither will I look up, as to green hills 
Flashing with rivulets, and find new strength." 
Below, the courtiers quarreled o'er their cups, 
And toasting her cried, " Hail to Hakon, too ! " 
And the grave King, vext that his wish and will 
Had thus been thwarted, prone upon his lounge 
Was somewhat less than king. 

" Let us go down," 
Said Malford, Valborg's maid. 

" Nay, nay, my girl ; 



17 



The Legend of St. Oiaf's Kirk. 

It is for them that fight, and not for us 

Mere lookers-on, to faint." But pale her cheeks; 

Each whistling sword-sweep seemed to steal her breath. 

His name alone found audience at her ear, 

His helm alone shone through the dusty air. 

And each hurt horseman that they carried past, 

Blood-stained, disheveled, arms hung dangling down, 

Was Axel, with white face upturned to hers, 

Her favor still upon him. 

" Valborg, child," 
The Queen said, " Courage yet ! " See where they come I 
Our Hakon's besom now hath swept the field 
Of all save one; so have no further fear. 
For he is oak-strong, and his foe, though lithe 
And willowy, hath less persistence." 

Pale 
With sudden giddiness, down on her knees 
Dropt Valborg, like a lily broken-stemmed ; 
Lightly they bore her to the royal booth, 
Where, whispering in her ear, again the Queen 
Spoke kindly : " For Saint Oiaf's sake, arouse ! 
And Hakon, conqueror, soon shall make thee well." 

But like one dead the maiden lies ; hears not 

The clash of steel as round the field they edge. 

Horseless and bleeding, both with broken swords. 

Mid closing circle of spectators," dumb 

With dread and hoarseness; — sees not through the dust 

The thrust and parry of their battered blades. 

Their visors up to freshen the scant air, 

Their staggering steps, the fast descending dusk ; — 

Feels not the chill of the uprising gale. 

As all the gray west piles with mountain clouds, 

iS 



Tlie King's Birthday. 

Black-browed and threatening. She must waken now ! 
A din of tongues and trumpets tells the end. 
And Axel, crowned as victor, from the shield 
And shoulders of his seconds sliding down. 
Thrusts back the screens and bursts into the booth 
Exclaiming: "This, O King, I claim !" — But no, 
She gives no welcome. And when loud and harsh 
Like a wroth bear, the nearing thunder growls, 
And in confusion from the benches pour 
The people townward, stormed by wind and rain, 
Still 'neath the tent-skin lies, as if asleep, 
Wynhilda's daughter, fairest of the court. 
And chiefest prize of this day's tournament. 



'9 



IV. The Spaaouinn. 



Right merrily the months rolled. On her hand 

Now Valborg wore a slender link of gold, 

One link, and slender as a daisy's stem, — 

But from it trailed unseen a thousand Hnks 

That bound her hfe to Axel, her betrothed ; 

And on her bosom lay the silver lamb 

That he had hung there, bounding at each breath. 

Among her maids she sat, and smiled to hear 

St. Olaf's chimes ring out their vespers. Glad 

The bells seemed with her, and she smiled to think 

How soon their calling would be meant for her. 

The flames she watched lapping the logs of spruce. 

And with them let her fancy climb and fall, 

Breathed hard and harder, felt her face aflame, 

Until, before she knew it, wet Avith tears 

Her cheeks shone, and the wondering maids drew close 

To press the reason, twining round her neck 

Their fair, white arms, and burying their cheeks 

Upon her breast to hide their own wet lashes. 

" Sweet mistress, why shouldst thou have thought of grief? 

They say that to be good is to be glad. 

And thou art like an angel in this place." 

" Forgive me, dear ones, but I only weep 
For too much gladness, — more than I deserve. 
For I have lodged an idol in my heart. 
And that is sinful." 



The Spaaquiiiii. 

With a sudden shriek 
That brought the frighted hsteners to their feet, 
She rose and started backward, as an owl 
Down fluttered from the gable to the warmth. 
Fire-blinded ; and with beating, aimless wings 
Smote 'gainst her as it passed, and at her feet 
Let drop a little feathery fall, snow white, 
Of ruffled plumage. 

" Christ's name ! " cried the maids, 
" Put by thy marriage till the grass-month comes ; 
This bears some evil import." 

With a smile 
She shamed their counsel, saying: " Fear no ill I 
St. Olaf sounds the vespers ; drowsy-brained 
I had forgotten, and this bird Avas sent 
To bid me. Let us go." 

One only stayed, 
The timid Malford, Valborg's favorite maid, 
Who murmured as the silken curtains sank 
Behind them, " What it means I do not know. 
But thing more ominous than that!" She stooped 
And sought the feathers (seven there were), and brought 
Them to the chiefest prophet, who was called 
The Spaaquinn, saying: " Mother, read for me 
The wisdom of this plumage." 

Then the witch 
Each feather pointing, pierced a small blue vein 
In the girl's wrist, and on a parchment wrote 
Seven words, one word with each ; and each red word 
Was fellow to the others, — each was " Year." 

" Unravel further," gasped the maid. But dumb 
The shriveled lips became, while through the door 



The Legend of Sf. Olaf's Kirk. 

The feathers fluttered, taking to themselves 

The semblance of a crow, that trailed a gloom 

Across the bare fields as it southward sailed, 

Sent back hoarse croakings, passed the yews, and now. 

Low hovering 'bove the foot-hills, slowly dimmed 

To nothingness. 

From the gray, empty sky 
The girl turned wonderingly, pushed toward the seer 
A little pile of silver, and again 
Said softly, " Mother, make the writing plain, 
I cannot ken it;" to the doorway drew 
Until her heel lay 'gainst the threshold, stood 
Large-eyed and open-mouthed, as if spell-bound ; 
And from the mutterings of the spaaquinn's trance 
Caught here and there new cause for terror. 

"Out! 
Ye carrion that call vultures, out on ye ! 
If scarlet, draggling in your purple gore 
Be spotted, be it ripp'd and ragg'd and sown 
Upon the hurricane ! — The years' long scroll 
Unrolls and shouts their secrets. Girl, behold ! 
I see the writing of these feathers wrought 
In flaming words, like crinkled lightning scrawled 
Across the sky. Read through my withered eyes ! 
Behind white Dovre drops the sun, and leaves 
A night unmooned for four-score tard}- months, — 
Unstarred save by a lurid comet. Lo ! 
Now blossoms the late morn, with blaze of warmth 
That sets the whole world dancing, keeping time 
To its own laughter. They who grieved are glad, 
And find but witchery in the sidewise glance 
Of such as I am. But bend down thine ear. 



The Spaiujiiiiiii. 

And hcar'st thou not the rumbhng of the ice 

Far underneath the powdery crust of snow, 

That chaps beneath the sun-heat ? Nearer sweeps 

The babel of its voices, Hke the blast 

Of wild fjeld-slagers from the mountain clefts, 

Or giddy smoke-squall ; and a hurricane 

Of sudden ruin smites the empty throne ; 

While through the raining ashes, twice,— aye thrice, 

Our Norland's coronet crashes to the ground, 

Spilling its jewels ; and beside it grovel 

Two spurred and armored men, blood on their lips ; 

And by them, — many warriors weeping near, — 

Lies prone, a sceptre in her nerveless grasp, 

This virgin wife, this queen unscarleted, — 

Saint Valborg of the owlet plumes." 

Of this 
Naught to her mistress told the shuddering girl. 
But when to the warm room the group returned 
From their devotions, Malford being maid 
Remained with Valborg after all had gone. 
Unlaced her jacket, loosed her stomacher. 
And freed from its light snood her flaxen hair 
Down flowing o'er her bosom to her knees. 
Still tarrying that by chance there might arise 
Excuse for words. 

" Art thou not slow to-night, 
And weary, Malford?" 

" Mistress, slow I am. 
But not from weariness. I only think 
'Twere well to wait the grass-month. 'Twere not long, 
And sometimes waiting is the wisest speed. 
I beg thee take it kindly." 

Two white hands 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

Fell on the speaker's shoulders: " Malford, mine, 
I know thou lovest me and wishest well ; 
But little maid, who now for full five suns 
Hast been a sister to mc, art thou sure 
Thy love is quite unselfish ? It may be, 
Without so meaning, thou wouldst dally time 
That thou mayst longer feel my room thine own, 
That thou mayst cling the longer close to me. 
No other having right to come between. 
Is it not so ? " 

" Nay, nay, thou wrongest me ! 
I do so love thee that thy joy is mine." 

" Then press me not to put off one short hour 

That fuller cup to-morrow offers me. 

I know the fear that thou hast felt to-day, . 

But let the portent promise what it will 

Scarce could it more unhappiness foretell 

Than this delay thou wishest. Many moons 

Already I have waited, patienth' 

Living on hope, but hope too long put off 

Will starve the soul, nor is the pain less keen 

Nor death less pitiful than if our strength 

Were drained bv dogwood. Malford, mine, good night 



24 



V. St. Olaf's Kirk. 



Full of sweet promise smiled on Olaf's walls 

The moonlit morn, and joyously the bells 

Tossed down their benedictions. Late the fall, 

But mild ; the luminous air was crystal clear, 

And as the visits of the sun were short. 

At his first gleam above the glowing north 

Wide open swung the gates of iron and oak, 

And from the King's house towering 'bove the town 

Forth rumbled the court chariots. Like a prince 

Rode Axel, with the royal coach-and-six. 

The King beside him ; and behind these came 

The Queen and Valborg. All the streets were choked 

With people, thronging to the minster square. 

While from the roofs above them rained green sprays 

Of holly and of Christ-thorn, and the breeze 

Bellied a thousand banners. 

At the kirk 
Each passed before the stoup, crossing himself, 
Then entered ; and behind the bridal train 
Swept in the multitude. The rites began. 
The pageant of procession lent the aisles 
A noonday splendor, and the unseen choir 
Seemed like an angel chorus shouting down 
Their hallelujahs and their glad amens. 
In stately order moved the ritual, led 
By Rome's vicegerent, ranked above the King, 
The good Archbishop Eiwen, richly stoled 



2.5 



The Legend of St. Ohif's Kirk. 

And golden mitred, no tiara'd pope 
E'er loved or venerated more. 

Then rose 
And stood forth Blackfriar Knud : " In the name of God, 
These bans I do forbid. Behold the law, 
That none of kin shall marry ; here I hold 
The pedigrees of those thou wouldest bind, 
And here discover that by fourth degree 
These two are kindred : Sturlsen, sire of one, 
The cousin-german of Dame Gudrun, aunt 
To Axel Tordsen." 

Still as death became 
The thronging aisles. 

" The record also shows 
That at the font in Highborg both were dipped ; 
And by the selfsame nurse, a year between. 
These two were suckled." 

The Archbishop spoke : 
" What envious tongue has fired thy pious zeal ? " 

" That bears not, Father. I but point the facts, 
My finger on these dates ; you, Father, ken 
The clavis and the moment of these laws 
The Church hath made." 

Then followed hot debate. 
Twelve clerks were called, whose goose-quills being trim'd, 
Rose one by one, and in as many shapes 
Set forth the case, repeating ages, names, 
Till they who hearkened half forgot their own. 
The hoary Bishop from the altar came 
To vouch the parchment scrolls ; and Erland too, 
Archdeacon and most learn'd in law, stepped down 
To note the clavis. Two long hours or more 



26 



St. Olaf's Kirk. 

The clerks heaped round them ponderous registers, 
Ramparts of vellum, till at last the monks 
Came empty-fisted from the cloister shelves. 
Finding no others. 

Restless grew the crowd. 
Weary with waiting. Now and then arose 
Rough voices : " Less of law, more justice give us." 
" What haggard monk, this Knud, — is he the Prince 
Costuming ? " " Where, then, skulks the Prince ? " 

At this 
Axel unlocked the arms that circled his. 
Strode down the steps to where Prince Hakon stood, 
And said, low-voiced, though not a word was lost : 
" My cousin, from a boy thou 'st been with me, 
Known my each thought and wish, and well hast known 
My noblest thought, my dearest wish, was this. 
If then thy lips can fashion any word 
To silence this contention, speak it now. 
And prove our love is mutual. If thy will, 
Unwittingly, I've crossed in anything. 
Speak now, that I may know the seeming wrong 
And haste to right it." 

" Why appeal to me ? 
Of what concern to me this clerkly strife ? " 

— " The same that "tis to me, my cousin Prince, 
If thy love be the same as mine toward thee." 

" I am no law-wright, nor hath my tongue skill 
To lick laws from their tablets." 

" But art thou 
The breath enkindling them ? Forgive me, cousin ; 
I doubt thee not, but speak and silence these ! " 



27 



The Legend of St. Ola/'s Kirk. 

*' As for the pack, if barking please their throats, 
Why, let them clamor ! Commons have that right, 
And welcome ! As for thee, Sir Knight, doubt not, 
For as to thee I have been, so I am." 

The red robe of Prince Hakon, Axel kissed, 
And answered : " I believe thee." 

Now the kirk 
Grew still as if no breathing thing were there 
To lend the sunshine motes ; and when at last 
There came a sound, it was the Bishop's voice. 
Who with uplifted hands and jeweled staff 
Bade silence, and with measured, echoing words 
Proclaimed : " The Chapter hath defined the law. 
And we, as guardian of the Church's faith. 
Which ye do all respect, these bans forbid ! " 

Then to the pair, who speechless stood, he gave 
A table-spread, bade each to hold an end. 
And with clear voice : " As we, the Church's arm, 
With this estramacon do smite in twain 
The texture of this fabric" (here he stretched 
The blade between the two, cleaving the cloth), 
" So for all time to come, till time be done, 
And the all-mother take you to her breast. 
Do we estrange your bodies and your lives ; 
Break ye no bread together ! " 

To their feet 
Ran the white raveled ends. From Valborg's wrists 
He loosed and took the golden ornaments. 
Slipped off her spousal ring, undid the chain 
Clasping her amulet, — a silver lamb, 
That leapt and sank between her rounded breasts, — 



28 



.SV. 01(7/" s Kirk. 

And gave to Axel ; who receiving all 

In the hollow of his palm, looked now at them, 

Now vacantly at Valborg, then strode down. 

Flinging the baubles into empty air ; 

And following where they fell, jingling like bells 

On Olaf's baldachin : " By the white Christ, 

Whom I acknowledge, — Olaf, patron saint, 

And all that's holy ! if I wed not her 

Then go I henceforth widowed ! And in place 

Of helm and doublet, will I hide myself 

In cowl and sackcloth ; ne'er again be called 

' Sir Axel, knight and soldier,' ne'er again 

Sip bubbling mead, or look in woman's eyes ; 

But smeared with ashes will I cloak myself 

From the fair world and smiling face of day. 

And like a sneaking cat-goupe waste my years 

In some vile hill-hole." 

Then with thin, hard voice 
Spake Valborg : " Better so than disobey 
The Church, our blessed mother. Glad are they 
Who breathe a little time love's mountain air, 
And catch a glimpse of life's broad pasturings. 
Regret not ! What we have been, that we are. 
Each day the riper fruit of yesterday. 
I, too, will now forswear the world, will go 
With the sweet sisters to their peaceful home 
Upon the hills. I, too, will spouse myself 
A bride to the white Christ. Good-bye I Good-bye I 
My brother I Rest content. I am content ! " 

But as she spake, the telltale tears gushed forth. 
Giving the lie ; and all undone by sobs 
She flung herself upon him, clung to him. 



29 



The Legend of St. Ohif's Kirk. 

Kissed his thin hps, and hfting a clenched hand 
Against the white-stoled Bishop, with the rage 
Of a wild creature cursed his hallowed name; 
Then heavily sank, lying in death-like swoon, 
And silence filled the aisles. Sharply without 
Were heard the scraping of dead twigs, and drip 
Of frost-damp from the gargoyles' grinning jaws, 
Smiting the pebbles. 

On their heads they felt 
The Bishop's consecrated hands, and heard : 
" May Christ's baptism of peace descend on these ! 
Christ pitieth them that grieve, loveth them best ; 
In Him shall ye find comfort. Bear in mind 
That life is short, and duty its chief end, 
Not earthly joys, — the right its own reward ; 
And now to wed, unless the Church of Rome 
Gave special unction, were to barter heaven 
For this world's pottage." 

— " Father," Axel cried, 
Breaking upon the blessing, " Is there then 
One star unswallowed by the monster night 
That now encompasses me ? Speak, Father ! Can 
The maker unmake ? Can the Pope enswathe 
And coffin, if he will, this loathsome law. 
Long dead — as with my finger I might point 
'Mong them before us, — and with papal key 
Lock down forever this unrighteous ghost 
Now fronting me ? " 

" He has all power, my son." 

" To Rome then go I ! God ! am I an owl 
To wink thus blindly, thinking a shorn poll 
Stuff to outbalance justice ! Golden words ! 



30 



Sf. Olaf's Kirk. 

Once more a soul they give me ; now once more 
Life's pathway opens, and the world holds out 
Its million helping hands, willing and strong, 
That beckon Romeward." 

" Hard the journey is." 

"A soldier counts not hardships." 

" Perilous, — 
Through trackless wildernesses, hostile hordes. 
Snow-hills, morasses and malarial climes." 

" Strong-bodied, I fear neither foe nor clime." 

" And long the marches ; years must pass before 
Thou canst return." 

" That, truly, do I dread ; 
But if thou, Valborg, hast the heart to wait, 
I will be patient. What say'st thou to that ?" 

Valborg looked up. 

" If I go forth to Rome, 
And by thus going, gain again the right 
To claim thee, Valborg, — how long wilt thou wait ? 

" Forever, Axel." 

" What say'st thou to that, 
My Father, is that time enough ? Love-spurred, 
I will outwing the wild swans in their flight ! 
Your blessing, Father ; I will start this day, 
And every mile-stone that I put between 
Her feet and mine, will whisper to myself : 
'One mile the nearer Valborg! 

Tenderly 



31 



The Legend of St. Oiaf's Kirk. 

The blessing fell, and with the words rare tears 

Of sympathy upon his flaxen hair, 

Those holiest of holy water drops ; 

Then many hands sought his, whose trembling grasp 

Told why no words came with them. 

" Rome ! to Rome ! 
Rang through the aisles, and at the Bishop's beck 
The choir pealed forth a triumph seldom heard 
Save when the kings went forth to war, and loud 
The bells responded. With few, common words 
The lovers said farewell, swore faith to each, 
Then turned to part, — when Axel, wheeling round. 
Cried : '' Valborg, ere we give a last good-bye, 
A sign we'll leave here of our mutual vow." 

Leading, he sought the portal of the kirk. 
And halting, stood before a tower of talc. 
That sprang from the gray pavement to the roof. 
Then plucking from its sheath his soldier's sword 
He channeled in the stone the letter " A," 
For Axel ; then to Valborg gave the sword. 
Who wrought upon and over this, a "V," 
Forming a cypher. 

" See ! " he cried, " We two. 
Though severed this day once, once more are bound ; 
By this I pledge my faith, by this record 
Thy promise made before these witnesses ; 
And when again my eyes salute this sign. 
By this, O Valborg, will I claim thee mine ! " 



32 



VI. The Bells. 



" To Rome ! to Rome ! " rang through the bustling town. 
This way and that ran men ; and women, full 
Of care, made show of doing some small thing 
To tell their sympathy. 

The elder folk 
Counseled less speed, but Axel only said : 
" To sooner start is sooner to return, 
And claim to a short life an added lease." 

So escort was prepared to strengthen him 

Till he should cross the treacherous Dovre-fjeld, 

His arms were furbished, rations wrapped in skins 

New willow rackets fitted to his feet, 

And thousand things tucked in his saddlebags 

As kindly as uncalled-for. Letters three. 

In runic characters fair writ by monks, 

The Bishop gave him, — making audience sure, 

And setting forth the object of his quest 

And pilgrimage. 

At one o'clock, both sky 
And sea were overcast, and a damp chill 
Pierced all who worked not. In an hour more 
The autumn sun sank down, and when the smith, 
Lacking for light, looked up to see who darkened 
His doorway, clouds he saw, and flakes of snow 
Whirling in millions, burying fast the town ; 
While Dovre, Roros and the Kjolen horns 



33 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

Were peaked snowdrifts, heaven a snowdrift too, 

All colorless as a universe unborn. 

At three the streets were dark ; a gusty wind, 

Bleak from the sea, growled at each unbarred door. 

And from the open roofs snatched burning tufts 

Of vraic, that chased the smoke-clouds and but made 

The gathering gloom the thicker. 

Axel stood 
Within the smithy: " Come man, you must end, 
Or with three shoes we travel." 

" Master, nay ! 
Sally not forth this night ! All yesterday 
The air was filled with partridges, whose flight 
Foretold the coming of a northeast snow ; 
And if I read the weather-sign aright 
That racks this shoulder-blade of mine, — King's head I 
'Tis no mere flurry threatens." 

Breaking off. 
He glanced across his shoulder to the door, 
Dropped from between his knees the stallion's hoof. 
And straightening himself flung off his cap 
To welcome a new comer. — Lo ! the King ! 
Who shook the snow-flakes from his cloak, and said : 
" Wait but a week, Sir Knight, and we will find 
Fit escort for thee. Pick thou from our band 
Of men-at-arms a score that please thee best ; 
These will we freely grant, a horse to each. 
And a fleet ship, provisioned and well manned. 
To make the Danish coast. Rash-willed it were 
This night to risk the roads, buried so deep 
That roads there are not. But one week from now, 
Or when, thereafter, first the moon peeps through 
Heaven's curtains, go, — our blessing following thee." 



34 



The Bells. 

Thence Axel sought his chamber, tried to sleep, 
But could not ; rose again, and made his way 
Into the men's-hall, where the night was noised 
With gammon-board and mungat ; watched the sparks 
Leap snapping to the wainscoting, or fly 
Straight upward through the vent-hole into night. 
Warm was his welcome, but he found the words 
Unmieaning, and could only pace the floor, 
Like a strong creature pent within a cage,- 
And measure with his ear the deepening drifts 
That walled his passage. Stepping to the door 
He slipped the iron hasp ; a mighty force 
Tugged at the door-string, and he faced the wind ; 
Felt glad to feel its buffets on his cheeks. 
Felt glad to wage war with it, and strode out 
'Gainst snow and tempest. 

Long within her room 
Sat Valborg, lonely, head upon her harp. 
She tried to sing his favorite song, but failing, 
Slipt wearily to bed. Hour after hour 
She lay and listened, till at last she lost 
The sense of hearing, and the household slept. 
Sudden she wakened, stifling, and arose 
Upon one elbow, wide-eyed. What was that, — 
A footstep at her door? Soft slipping down 
From the warm hollow of her eider nest, 
She ran and pushed the curtains to one side: 
" What wilt thou ?" 

But no answer was sent back. 

Returning to her bed she flung herself 

Face downward, and a torrent of hot tears. 

And sobs escaped her. Rousing from deep sleep 



35 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

Her maid arose and joined her, and in fright 
Cried : " Mistress, art thou ill? " 

" No, no, not ill, 
But thirsting, Malford ; bring me some cool draught.' 

She stood there in the fire-lit room, alone. 

Again she seemed to hear the curtains stir; 

Was it the wind ? The flickers built tall forms 

That stalked the floor, and whispers of the night 

Ran through the fire-glow, sending to her cheeks 

A flush that was not fever. Ere it fled. 

The girl's voice: " Mistress, here I have your cup." 

She touched it not, but through the dimness leaned 

And to her bosom drew the drowsy girl. 

And kissed, and kissed her on the lips and neck ; 

Then tried again to sleep, but dreamt wild dreams, 

Now seeing Axel's corse, with Olaf's walls , 

All swathed in mourning wraps ; now leaping up, 

Thinking she felt his breathing burn her face. 

All night the fine snow piled upon the roofs 

And drifted 'gainst the doorways ; all next day, 

And still the next and next, it fell and fell. 

A fortnight more no horse could find the road. 

The third week Axel started. The King rode down, 

A hundred knights at heels and half the town 

Beside him ; bade godspeed, and to his belt 

A broadsword hung, saying : " Be true as this ! 

Remember thou art soldier of our crown, 

And lend thine arm and this to each just cause. 

Fearing no foe." Sir Asbiorn too was there ; 

And Father Eiwen, who upon his face 



36 



The Bells. 

His thin hands laid : " My son, whose bed I hoped 

To consecrate with hyssop, thy return 

I may not welcome, but our Valborg will, 

And thou wilt find her still the same. May Christ 

Go with thee, and in safety bring thee back." 

At kirk knelt Valborg, the cold altar stone 

Reeling beneath her. Filled with choking grief 

She could not say good-bye, but by a page 

Her rosary sent him ; and when he had climbed 

His horse, and on the far-off bridge she heard 

The dull tramp of his troopers, up she fared 

By stair and ladder to the bellman's post, — 

For he was mute, and could not nettle her 

With words' cheap guise of sympathy. There perched 

Beside him up among the dusty bells. 

She pushed her face between the mullions, looked 

Across the world of snow, lighted like day 

By moon and moor-ild ; saw with misty eyes 

A gleam of steel, an eagle's feather tall ; 

And through the clear air watched it, tossing, pass 

Across the sea-line ; saw the ship lift sail 

And blow to southward, catching light and shade 

As 'mong the sheers and skerries it picked out 

A crooked pathway ; saw it round the ness. 

And, catching one last flicker of the moon. 

Fade into nothingness. With desolate steps 

She left the bellman and crept down the stairs ; 

Heard all the air re-echoing : " He is gone ! " — 

Felt a great sob behind her lips, and tears 

Flooding the sluices of her eyes ; turned toward 

The empty town, and for the first time saw 

That Nidaros was small and irksome, felt 



37 



The Legend of St. 0/afs Kirk. 

First time her tether galhng, and, by heaven ! 

Wished she'd been born a man-child, free to fare 

Unhindered through the world's wide pastures, free 

To stand this hour with Axel, as his squire. 

And with him brave the sea-breeze. Aimlessly 

She sought the scattered gold-threads that had formed 

Life's glowing texture ; but how dull they seemed ! 

How bootless the long waste of lagging weeks, 

With dull do-over of mean drudgeries. 

And miserable cheer of pitying mouths 

Whistling and whipping through small round of change 

Their cowering pack of saw and circumstance ! 

How slow the crutches of the limping years ! 



PART SECOND. 

Scene, the same ; period, about 1157. 



VII. The Strange Knight. 

Seven years were passed, when on a summer night 
(In hay-month, so they tell it), with worn horse 
A warrior came from southward. 

In his train 
A dozen horsemen rode, strangely attired. 
And full of quip and laughter, school-boy like ; 
But not a word he uttered. 'Cross a bridge 
He spurred, the twelve close clattering by his side, 
Recalling stories from their beardless age, — 
But not a word he uttered. Then another, 
And there were six behind him, spurring too, 
Leaving the finish of their tales untold, — 
But not a word he uttered. And at length, 
When he had crossed a third, he rode alone ; 
Heard nothing save his stallion's hoofs and breath, 
Felt but the pounding of his saddle-gear. 
Saw nothing, till his horse, well winded, lagged. 
Then looking up he found the heavy road 
'Tween Domaas and Fokstuen well-nigh passed ; 
Before him lay the level way to Jerkin, 
And 'round, the Dovre-fjeld, a waste of moss 
And heather, whence the ptarmigan arose. 
And buzzards circling prey, with here and there 



39 



7'//^ Lci^u'/nf of SL O/a/'s Kirk. 

A lonely tarn made noisy by the loons ; 
While the snow horns, above, were glorious 
With (laz/.lini^ day. 

Buried once more in thought 
He rode on steadily, nor looked again 
Till on an eminence he slackened rein, 
Beholding to the north a tiny town, 
Far, far to northward, backed against a hill, — 
Three leagues i)erhaps, but in the luminous air 
'Twas but a league, and every little thing 
Shone forth in detail. Well he knew those towers, 
That long-kirk, and the glittering holm alive 
With fishing smack. Ivich sight and scent and sound 
Spoke to him, saying " Welcome ! " Still the air. 
But filled with small, sweet noises: plaint of gulls, 
Circling their young, the flight of cormorants, 
Waves lapping on a beach ; nearer at hand 
Brooks babbling, larches talking low together; 
And from the vales below, under the hills. 
The far, faint buzz of labor, that now seemed 
A pleasant pastime, and he longed to stand 
Among the workers, working to l)e found. 

Passed were the lichen belt and glo(,)m of pines ; 

Now here and there were foot-paths, saeter-huts, 

And herds of grazing cattle, that looked up 

And turned mild eyes upon him. With each step 

The grass grew taller, greener. Waist-deep stt)od 

The oat-fields, o'er whose billowy green, now ploughed 

By the swift pinions of the passing wind. 

Slow sailed the brown cloud-shadows. Further down 

Were strawberries, tempting the stray passer-by, 

F\)rget-me-nots leaning above the streams. 



40 



The .Stra/ii:;i- K/iii^/if. 

Small gardens green with leeks and clambering beans ; 
And by the roadside, daisies spilled milk-white 
And poppies marked his pathway. 

Turning back 
lie found none foUowing, and dropping down 
Wetted his kerchief in a spring, to cool 
His pulse. Was this indeed fair Nidaros, — 
His home, and Valborg's ? Springing on his horse 
Again he galloped, loose of rein, his spurs 
Red-spotted, white his horse's flanks ; heard not 
The ocean nor the whistle of his plume. 
Saw only Nidaros, heard but his heart 
Loud thumping on his mail. 

Again he paused 
Upon a knoll, and saw the town more near. 
Its glimmering spires, broad clusters of black roofs. 
The streets deserted, for 'twas early yet, 
And on the hill beyond, the walls and towers 
Of Norway's monarch. Then came sudden fear. 
A chill ran over him, his breath grew short ; 
Glad to be near, his purpose well-nigh failed. 
And but for pride he would have turned and fled. 
As from a foe too terrible to face. 
He tried to calm himself, an old air hummed. 
Why had he hurried so ? Were some one here 
To bear him company, 'twere less forlorn ! 
He saw no human being, and he seemed 
The world's last, lone inhabitant. Should he 
Await the coming of his followers ? No, 
His lips were far too full. 'Twas better thus; 
Unspoken to, he had no need to speak. 
" But by the saints ! " (forgetting that he came 
Unheralded), " The welcome's cold enough ! 



41 



TJie Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

These might have sent me greeting and a troop 
To ward me." 

Then alighting from his horse, 
He went on slowly. What if she were gone ? 
The thought was like an axe-blow, that descends 
And stops all power of thinking. Walking still 
His feet forgot their way, and looking up 
He found a cliff before him. Halting short. 
He swept his glove before his eyes as if 
To brush away a cobweb. Wed she could not ; 
Her promise, was it not, " I'll wait forever?" 
But there is bridegroom that hath but to ask. 
And though the maid hold back and look abashed. 
And shriek denial, — seizing her slim wrist, 
Blue-veined, Death makes her mistress. 

Now he stopped, 
Feelinp" the air all tremulous with the noise 

o 

Of sweet-mouthed bells, whose voices had so oft 
Brought peace and comfort. Fountains were his eyes, 
And one great sob burst from him ; then glad-faced 
He walked on, surer footed, toward the road. 
Regaining it he heard a girlish voice 
Climbing the hill, and with it came the girl, — 
A swine-herd, slight, brown-ankled, hardly weaned 
When he left Nidaros. 

" Good-day to thee ! 
Know'st thou the lady Valborg ? Fares she well ? " 

Biting her herd-staff, " Sir, I do not." 

Grave 
His eyes became. " Where do you live ? Is this 
Not Nidaros 'neath us?" 

" It is Nidaros, 



42 



TJic Strange Knight. ' 

And there I live." 

Slowly he faltered on, 
His step grown ten years older. Presently 
A rattling cart approached, and to the wight 
Who drave he beckoned, thinking to himself, 
How quick this fellow's heels will fly to bear 
The news loud-mouthed unto the waking town. 
" Know'st thou the soldier Axel ? " 

" Axel ? — no ; 
He tarries not in Nidaros, that I know; 
And it is better thus ; too many swords 
Fatten already, father says, upon 
Our hard-earned substance." 

" This to thy father take 
To give him cause for impudence I " His cloak 
Upflew, as with his lance's hilt he smote 
The cowering knave, showing his vest of chain. 

Marking the smoke that followed from the wheels 
Fast disappearing. Axel sate him down. 
Nor looked again until upon his face 
He felt hot breath, and close beside him stood 
His war-horse. Resting thus, he heard below- 
More hoof-beats, and a mule came leisurely. 
Bearing a woman loaded down with stuffs 
And candles for the abbey. And it seemed 
When she drew near, that in her face he traced 
Outlines not unfamiliar. Coarse her garb, 
But whole and span clean, and in form and mein 
A gentlewoman. 

"Greeting! Canst thou tell 
A stranger where good Father Eiwen dwells? 
I would salute him." 



43 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

On her breast she crossed 
Her pahns : " Heaven bless him, he's long dead." 

The knight 
Knelt, crossing too. " And lady Valborg, — say ! 
Does she yet live here ? Has she gone away ? " 

" Nay, nay, sire ! She still lives in Nidaros, 
The sweetest woman of the Gildish race. 
No wonder that the king well loves her." 

— " King ! 
What king?" 

King Hakon, — but you see she trothed 
A helt. Sir Axel ; who by some strange law, 
(I never fathomed it), rode forth to Rome 
Some seven years back, and, as the chances were, 
Returned not." 

" Does this lady love the King?" 

" They say so, and that seven trothed years elapsed 
She'll be our queen ; e'en now they clepe her thus 
In whispers. Not a half hour since I saw 
Her enter at the minster ; speed thy horse, 
Thou'lt see the fairest face in Norland when 
She steps from matins." 

" Thank thee much, but first, — 
I used in Nidaros to call each child 
By name ; but long ago, and faces change. 
And also names, when girls that wear them bloom 
As fair as one I think of ; — at the font 
Wert thou not christened Adelaide?" 

" I was." 
" Thy sire, Sir Asbiorn ? " 

" Was, and is, thank God I 



44 



TJie Strani:;c Knight. 

And though this Hakon's bitter hate, because 
He 'friended Axel, has clipped off his spurs, 
There lives none kindlier, stauncher to his word, 
More loyal to the crown." 

" That well I know ; 
To me he is a father, and with thee 
I claim a brotherhood. Why, Adelaide ! 
Know'st thou not Axel Tordsen ? I am he! 
And by this blade that Hakon's father hung 
Beside me, saying, ' Be but thou true as this, 
Lending thine arm and this to each just cause,' 
Sir Asbiorn shall again wear gilded spurs. 
And thou white samite! " But of Valborg now,— 
I would gain audience with her, and at once." 

Then by the roadside talking, all was planned ; 

And as the messenger of Adelaide, 

Whom Valborg loved, he rode toward Nidaros, — 

Rode furiously, but ever as he flew 

Was outraced by the wings of his desire. 



45 



VIII. The Writing of the Sword. 



The King, followed by Valborg and her maids, 
Swept down the aisle from matins, while behind 
Curtsied the courtiers. Leaving these she sought 
The shrine of Mary, bright with yellow flames. 
And on it hung a pair of outspread wings 
Wrought in fresh wax : " O blessed Mother, speed 
His flight ! Thou knowest, Mother, my long years 
Of watching, full of faith ; and how my path 
Is hedged about and darkened. Bend thine ear, 

blessed mediator ! Hear my prayer, 
And give me my beloved ! " 

Looking up. 
Her face still radiant with earnestness, 
The King stood waiting : " Lady, for thy weal 

1 still press suit. Why longer waste the years 
And thy best bloom by flying in the face 

Of fortune? Is it then such luckless fate 

That when one lover fails thee, there should come 

A second, offering thee, with equal love, 

A queenship? Let us now put by the past," 

And make the present ours. Thy plighted troth 

I have respected ; it is now fulfilled " 

" Nay, nay ! My troth is lifelong." 

" Be it so ; 
But lifelong as to Axel, not to thee ! 
The death of one breaks every covenant seal, 



46 



The Writing of the Stoord. 

And gives the other freedom. Doubt ye still ? 
The Chapter shall consider it. If they 
Judge otherwise and say thou still art bound, 
Then will I no more follow thee," 

" Too fast ! 
Thine eloquence outfoots thy logic, sire. 
For to begin with, — Axel is not dead ! " 

" I fain would please thee, Valborg, if I could ; 

I sympathize, for I too am bereft 

And brotherless. But Axel is no more. 

I have a courier just come back from Rome, 

Who on his trail long followed, and now tells, 

That unavailing being Axel's quest 

He joined a Rhenish court (to thee we'll give 

The names and dates), was to a princess wed. 

Found fame in war, and fell in an affray 

Long moons past. Thou shalt look upon his sword. 

And weigh the proofs. We find them sadly strong, 

And have on yester-night made every plan 

To celebrate to-morrow, with due pomp, 

The burial service of our cousin and friend. 

The soldier Axel." 

" Have a care, my liege ! 
I doubt thy servile courier! Have a care 
That when the empty tomb is 'neath these stones, 
And wax-illumined has become the shrine 
Of every soldier. Axel come not back 
In life, more terrible than sheeted ghost, 
And blight thy hasty zeal." 

" Say thou the word, 
And we will wait a month." 

" Wait then a month, 



47 



The Legend of St. Olafs Kirk. 

And set thy sawyers and thy quany-mcn 

To building 'bove the earth, not underneath, — 

For triumph, not for mourning. Axel comes! 

This yester-night when thou hast lost thy sleep 

With planning pageants for an idle day, 

I dreamt, and needed not the spaatjuinn's sight 

To spell the vision. Axel comes apace ! 

Fetch here thy lying henchman, — he shall feel 

This altar trembling 'neath a soldier's tread, 

And shake with ague pains. Lag but a month, 

And, by my soul ! there'll come new cause for lagging 

While this was said, the stranger gained the kirk, 
Slid through the portal, dense with staring saints, 
Dipped finger at the stoup, and snugly wrapt 
Entered the grove of stone and hid beneath 
The trunk of a gray pillar. Standing there 
He watched the courtiers hasten to the street, 
And ladies pausing till the choir had ceased, 
Malford still lingering, and by her he knew 
That Valborg was not distant ; then the King, 
Whose foot-falls brought his hand upon his hilt. 
Only to drop it, feeling his own feet 
Pull toward the scarlet ; and the old-time love 
That bound him to the boy-prin-ce flashed again, 
And fain would he have fallen, kissing him. 

Then Valborg came, upon one finger-tip 

Poising a circlet of forget-me-nots, 

Pale blue ; and all else having left she sought 

The portal near where Axel crouched concealed ; 

And halting, stood before a tower of talc. 

That sprang from the chief corner-stone, and rose 



48 



The Writing of the Sword. 

Like a huge oak-trunk to the vaulted roof, 

Where with a hundred more it intermeshed 

Its branches with the gloom. Then with one hand 

She loosed the faded yester flowers, which like 

A ring'd aureola inclosed the sign 

That he and she had carved, and with the other 

Replaced it with the fresh wreath, murmuring low: 

" Hail, love ! good-morning ! " 

As a page would kneel 
Knelt Axel, without words ; pushed out his glove. 
And held the letter sent by Adelaide. 
He felt it from his fingers slip to hers, 
He heard her say, " It comes from Adelaide," 
He heard the wax seal crackle as it brake, 
And waited for her answer, — breathing hard, 
Scarce able to keep back a wild, loud cry 
That struggled in his throat, — his left hand close 
Upon the telltale armor, lest his heart 
Should noise its secret to the jingling links. 
And they to Valborg. F"ast she chased the words, 
Then read and re-read, too much dazed to pluck 
The meaning from them, panting, stormed by doubts. 
And fearing treachery. Thus ran the words : 

" To Lady Valborg. greeting ! Courage yet ! 
Thy seven-years waiting now is nearly done ; 
The horns of Dovre have saluted him, 
And while thou thinkest not, he shall approach, 
And when thou knowest not, before thy feet 
Kneel and salute thee." 

" Who, lad, gave you this ? " 
" The Lady Adelaide." 

" And sent no sien 



49 



TJie Legend of St. 0/iif's Kirk. 

Whence she received it ? " 

" Lady, yes ; " 
And 'neath his mantle tugij^ing at his throat, 
He loosed the rosary that there had hung 
Since he left Nidaros, and handed her. 

" Where is the giver ? " 

" He awaits your word." 

" Up, lad, and fly ! and tell him Valborg waits." 

Then suddenly before her rose tlie tall, 

Cloak'd stranger, leaning 'gainst the wall of stone. 

Lest giddy, he pitch headlong at her feet, 

Let fall his mantle, and in coat-of-mail. 

Bronze-faced and whiskered. Axel stood before her ; 

And blindly, for his eyes were drowned with joy. 

Stretched forth his arms antl fcnind her. 

When at length 
These two came streetward, Hakon and his court 
Had passed; but 'round the Knight a curious throng 
Soon hovered, peering at his arms and dress. 
The tongue-tied bellman 'mong them, who pushed close. 
And starting back, his wrinkled face all smiles, 
Dropt on his knees ; then nimbler than was wont 
Sped to the dusty bell-loft 'mong the bells. 
Made their mouths his, and they, wagging their tongues. 
With shout and laughter and loud, musical runs 
Told all the city, crying : " Axel's come ! 
He's come — come ! Oh ! he's come — come ! " 

" What's afoot ? " 
The King asked, loitering from the barbacan. 
And looking valleyward ; " What mean these shouts. 



The JJ^n'ti/ig of the Sword. 

This crowd, this jubilee? " 

" Tliey mean — they mean — " 
A courier <^aspecl, speaking between (juick breaths, — 
" They mean that Axel's come, and up the street 
Rides, Valborg at his side, and at their backs 
The rabble world, uncovered, casting" flowers, 
And crying : ' Long live Axel ! who was dead. 
But now comes back to be our king! ' And close 
In front ride galloping all your men-at-arms, 
As dazed and crazed as the rest." 

With quick commands 
The King withdrew within his walls ; creaking 
The gates swung on their hinges, hidden springs 
Burst through the moats, loud roaring, and aloft 
Blazed flags of threat, and mail of armed men 
With fire and missiles. 

These things being known, 
The Knight alighted, and a messenger sent : 
" Fair cousin, peace I bring ; no thought of harm 
Possesses. me. I went but to return. 
And now, my seven-year questing being done, 
I come again, my liege's loyal helt. 
Ready to war if there need be of war, 
And need of me, but for him, not against ; 
My arms the arms that thine own father gave, — 
Companions, men who with the King were bred. 
Naught else have I save a small parchment scroll 
Sewn in my mantle, that the Pope addressed 
To the first bishop, which if thou wilt read. 
Most innocent thou'lt find of treachery 
Or treason 'gainst the realm, save only this. 
That I have come to rob the Norland crown 
Of the most precious pearl that brightens it, — 



SI 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

The Lady Valborg. Cousin, I greet thee fair ! " 

An hour or more the couriers were afoot, 

Then down the drawbridge thundered on the moat, 

Linking once more the kingdom with its king. 



52 



IX. The Feast of Welcome. 



No sleep that night. All folk were in the streets, 
Laughing and garrulous ; the shouting bells 
Called in the herdsmen and the herring fleet, 
Curious to know the news, and patiently 
To each fresh coiner was the story told, 
With each retelling gathering incident. 
Until it grew a marvelous fairy tale, 
And Axel a great king, whose thousand knights, 
From playing quoits with coronets, had now 
Returned to dower Norland with their wealth ; 
And they who listened looked to see the south 
A bristling forest of huge bottoms, slow. 
And wallowing to the gunwales, overtasked 
With precious burthen. 

Lavish feast was spread. 
And all invited, — a rich barbecue 
Filling the kirk-square ; and to every mouth 
Was served its measure of sweet barley bread, 
With herring, smoking trenchers savory 
With ven'son brisket, bear's ham, and its fill 
Of milk or mungat. High above their heads 
Who elbowed to the tables, and above 
The minster's topmost finials, the King's hill 
Was circled by a twinkling diadem 
Of torch and bonfire ; and the halls and courts 
Of Hakon's house were thronged with merry guests 
Off'ring their clamorous welcome to the Knight, 



53 



The Legend of St. O/a/'s Kirk. 

Who sat at tabic, Valborg at his side, 
CHnking his silver cup to all who came. 

But now the feast was ended ; the mcn's-hall 
Was cleared of all save those who served the throne. 
While Axel, seated at the King's right hand 
Upon the high-seat, Valborg close beside 
To catch each syllabic, — to hungry ears 
Rehearsed the history of his seven years' quest ; 
Which seemed, as he recalled them, looking back 
O'er changing scenes, now sunny, now forlorn, 
Close trooping on the heels of others, still 
More strange and more impossible to paint, — 
Like seven long lifetimes. 

With clear, rapid speech 
He caught and led his audience. Up the Rhine 
He rowed them, pausing on his oars to point 
Its royal cities and staunch fortresses 
The Romans builded ; pierced with devious course 
The upper country, dense with virgin woods, 
And sparsely peopled by strange, roving clans 
Still headed westward, hearing on sand shores 
The far-off drum-beat of the ocean waves 
Sounding the summons, " Onward!" Now arose 
The white horns of that Norland of the south, 
Helvetia, wrapped about by thunder-caps ; 
And guided by the witch-wand of his voice 
They passed the grim Black Forest, painfully 
Mounted the foot-hills, and with rackets shod 
Forced passage by their pike-staves through the clefts 
Of niggard Alpine passes, choked by ice 
And wrack of avalanches. Then, glad-faced, 
To Italy's fair summerland they came. 



54 



The Feast of Welcome. 

And following' the highways straightwa)' reached 
Its capital ; beheld white palaces 
Ashimmer with the sun-heat, mighty domes 
That mimicked heaven's pantheon, gates of brass, 
Through which shone glimpses of the papal state, 
And granite arches thrusting to the sky 
The blazonry of Rome's imperial past. 
The)' tracked its streets, with wonder looked upon 
And wonder looking; mingled with the tides 
That swept to senate, bath and circus, eyed 
And elbowed by a bustling world, strange-faced, 
Strange-habited, speaking the Leden tongue. 
Then with quick pulse he sought the papal See, 
And kissed the pious robe of Urban, pope 
And father of kings. 

Here pausing in his tale. 
Fresh skins of wine were broken, and glad harps 
Sang hallelujahs. 

Now the journey home. 
With long delays and constant war with fate ; 
Now swooped on by freebooters, and compelled 
To pay rich ransom for a captured mate ; 
Now beaten back by far outnumbering- hordes ; 
Now forced by pitfalls to forsake worn paths 
And circuit trackless wildernesses, lost 
And famished ; now a prisoner, serving time 
In sky-perched eyries, with fierce feudal lords. 
Till he .should purchase liberty, each league 
The price of blood, or time — more precious still. 
Two }'ears he lingered tracking down the Rhine ; 
Was tripped at Mauth-thurm by its robber-knight, 
And forced to serve his river-toll ; again 
At Falkenberg ; then Sooneck's slender tower 



55 



The Legend of St. Olafs Kirk. 

Choked the great highway, and long time he bode, 
And then at Furstenberg, and Drachenfels 
New-builded. 

Burning were his words, and they 
Who listened saw the bending river pour 
Before them, saw its dark ravines, each topped 
By a gray castle, crouching panther-like 
Above the bridle-path, hungry for game. 
They tasted the plump grapes that he had plucked, 
They felt the sting of capture, and with him 
Grew pale in donjons. 

Then with changing state, 
Having snatched victory to his victors' grasp, 
The purses at his waist grew fat with fees, 
And by proud dukes he rode an equal, sued 
To swear allegiance, take for wife his pick 
From loveliest of the ladies, and become 
The fellow of crowned heads. Fearing denial 
He lingered, prisoner bound by golden chain ; 
Joined in their forays, and bent down by spoil 
Returned at night to where the pitch-pots glowed ; 
Strode through the bustling courtyard, all ablaze 
With feudal splendor, and at wasteful feasts 
Brimmed beaker. Then by winding stairway mounting 
He sought his chamber, whose rich tapestries 
Stiff with embroidery of silk and gold 
Conquered the darkness, making night alive 
With peacocks, pecking jewels from the grass, 
Lithe tigers lapped in sunshine tropical, 
And palm-trees splendid in a sunset glow ; 
But the bright colors of the figures blurred, 
As though they flickered neath a breathing wind 
Swaying the cloths; he felt the hateful chains 

56 



The Feast of Welcome. 

Snap from his ankles, and the stifling air 
Grow fresh, as if a rising gale swept down 
From Kjolen's clefts ; and leaping to his feet, 
Eyes swimming, — with alert resolve aroused 
His mates, slipt leash, and under cover of fog 
Again pushed forward. 

Thus the story ran, 
And as he spake, each listener seemed a part 
Of that he spake of. 

With one hand in his, 
Sat Valborg, drinking his warm eloquence. 
Feeling her small horizon stretch away 
Into dim distance, and her heart's desire 
Leap like a flame toward higher destinies. 
Then looking in his flashing, restless eyes, 
She nestled closer in his circling arm. 
Thought Nidaros first city in the world 
While he stayed, and with restful indolence 
Cared not at all which way life's pathway led 
So long as he walked with her. Glad she was 
To feel that Olaf's town was very small, 
And she no more could lose him. Dear old town 
Its every house-front, by-way and green tree. 
How fair to her I Rome, lapped in luxury, 
Queen, mistress of the world, could not compare 
With Axel's home, the laughing Nidaros! 



57 



X. The Foray, 



With breaking of the daydawn, suddenly 
Sprang Axel from the dais and the grasp 
Of Valborg, crying: " But my men-at-arms, 
Where then are they? " 

Finding them not yet come, 
And yet another glass running to waste 
Without disclosing cause, with troop of horse 
He sallied forth to seek them. For long hours 
He followed up the river Nid, and then 
The roaring Gula, scoured the mountain roads ; 
And when the sun was highest on the hills, 
He came upon fresh signs of combat, gouts 
Of blood and shattered lances on a bridge, 
A dead steed floating 'neath it ; and near by 
Each rocky fastness held a hundred foes 
Prowling by stealth to pounce upon the town ; 
But who, it seemed, beholding as they came 
War-signs about the palace, flags awave 
And drawbridge lifted, thought their presence known. 
And lemming-like had burrowed. On the scouts 
Rushed from their ambush ragged-bearded men, 
Shirted with beersercks, hairy head to heel, 
With shields of pelt, and in their wake a few 
Rich-doubleted, upon whose brazen shields 
A wolf's head threatened, by whose hungry eyes 
Quick Axel read the menace ; these the hordes 
Of Oppeland, King Amund at their head. 



q8 



The Foray. 

With swarms of vvildmen nursed on Dovrc's heights, 
Fierce as the bears they Hved among, — as wolves 
Thirsty for rapine. 

Then with bell and smoke 
King Hakon called his liege-lords, closed with clang 
The city gates behind him, and hied forth. 
Sir Axel at his side, to keep at bay 
This pirate from the south, whose jealousy 
His father had bequeathed him. From tall hills 
Down looking, he beheld unnumbered bands 
Ascending and descending ; while remote 
Upon the coast-line, 'gainst the dingy west, 
The flicker as of many wings, cloud-white, 
Toki where the fleet lay, pouring on the beach 
Fresh tides of warriors. 

" Sire," Axel spake, 
" 'Twere best to make short business of this siege ; 
My counsel this : 'Neath cover of to-night. 
When if the signs fail not, there will be wind 
And rainfall, to dispatch a band of scouts 
By twisted path to where the war-ships swim ; 
There light huge firebrands, which, when Amund sniffs 
And sees the low clouds reddened by their glow. 
Will lure him from the hills, thinking his boats 
Endangered ; and descending by the gorge. 
There suddenly, while he is broken-ranked, 
We'll rain upon him a bewildering storm 
Of stones and arrows." 

Thus the snare was laid. 
And when the bells tolled midnight, 'bove the beach 
A dull glare pierced the heavens, and at dawn 
King Hakon from the rocks looked down upon 
His foes caged in by cliffs, and with loud cries 



59 



The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

His army leapt upon them. Brief the fra}' 
But murderous, for thinking his reserve 
Was severed, Amund losing hope of help 
Fought rashly, seeing not his sons at hand. 
And ere they came, was massacred. 

Then short 
The victors turned to break the second band ; 
But weary with much slaughter, and now faced 
By equal and fresh forces, long the strife, 
Till they who from the city watched, now ceased 
Their watching, for the night-fog covered all ; 
And till the King, seeing his spearmen flagged. 
And that the bowmen lacked for shafts, called up 
His troopers, and with Axel at his side. 
Into the thick of it flung his battle-blade. 
Like troll-stones beat upon him shaft and axe, 
Till, borne down by the weight of many arms. 
From his tall horse he pitched, and o'er him howled 
A pack of hair}' beersercks. 

Seeing which, 
Came Axel spurring, and a blood-red path 
Cleft to him, dealing deathblows left and right, — 
An open swath, such as the mower cuts 
Through a ripe oat-field ; and behind him sped 
The footmen, who outran the mounted troop, — 
Hampered by dead and dying, — and unchiefed 
Strove onward, gaining courage with their speed, 
And never stopped till like a roaring wave 
Crashing upon the shore, they swept it clear. 
The wolf's eyes dimmed, the dukes of Oppeland, 
Fierce margraves, and the first of Amund's sons, 
Lay groveling in their heart's blood, while the few 
That gained the sea, there perished like poor flies ; 



60 



The Foray. 

And the proud fleet, like tempest-driven birds, 

Flew seaward, drave their beaks into each other, 

And beached upon the skerries. Ne'er before 

Was seen such booty as that morrow poured 

Into proud Nidaros, — and ne'er again 

Such woeful tidings as were that day breathed 

To sobbing Nidaros. For when the dawn 

Lay bare the wreck of carnage, and the friars 

Toiled through the rock-clefts to relieve the quick. 

In a dark hollow walled about by rocks 

(The " Goal of Ghosts," now called) the searchers spied 

Among the sprawling dead, two horsemen pierced 

By one another's spear-heads, bleeding still, 

Still quivering. And lo ! when they were turned. 

This was their king, blood spots upon his lips ; 

And this, the other, face down on a shield 

Quartered in blue and white, the people's pride 

And favorite, Sir AxeL 

Dumb with awe 
They beckoned helpmates, did whate'er they could, 
Then summoned a confessor, who knelt close, 
And thus King Hakon breathed into his ear : 
" Before heaven's judgment-seat, whose cherubim 
Will soon salute me, it was I who dealt 
My comrade deathblow ; blinded by the dust, 
Neither knew what he did ; and he is blameless, — 
But not so I, for in my heart of hearts 
Have I in years gone-by oft mused on this, 
Envious of him, and murdered him in thought. 
Shrive me of this." 

Then Axel lifting moan, 
Hakon leaned toward him, and upon his brow 
Slipt the slight golden crest that marks a king ; 



6i 



The Legend of St. 0/af's Kirk. 

And when the Knight, from stupor wakening, 
Gazed on the faces 'bout him, these last words 
Still lingered in his ears : " My cousin, this 
I give thee, cousin Axel, it is thine — 
And Valborg's. Living, I have done thee wrong. 
And done her wrong whom most of all I loved ; 
Which dying, I do now repent. Forgive ! 
Forgive me I This my will and testament, 
And these be witness : All I have is thine, — 
And Valborg's." 

Tottering stiffly to his feet, 
And flinging the regalia from his brow : 
" My crown is other ! " fiercely Axel cried ; 
"Release me from this death-coat! Give me air! 
Would ye then stifle me ! Make me a space 
For sweep of broad-sword ! Do ye not behold 
A new foe challenges ? " 

Then changing mood, 
He pushed his hands out as a blind man would. 
And gasping, murmured : " Lay me at full length : 
My sword I need not longer ; these gilt spurs 
No more become me, who have found a foe 
'Fore whom I cower. Hark! the bridal bells 
Mellow the morning air ; they ring for me. 
And I am ready. Lo ! the bride appears, 
In white apparel, snowdrops in her hair, — 
Welcome, )'e pallid Death ! " 

With gentleness 
The monks laid oft" his armor piece by piece, 
Then caught him as he reeled into their arms, 
Nerveless, a broken lance-head in his side, 
And 'cross his neck and loins long gaping wounds, 
Bleedincr red rivers. 



62 



The Foray. 

" Lady Valborg call ! 
And with her the Archbishop. Spare not speed ! " 

Mounting her palfrey she came galloping down, 

Thrusting aside the ministers of state 

And the red robes the people pressed on her, 

And crouching, held her breath till he should speak. 

After a little time he moaned and stirred. 
Pushed under him one elbow, ran his hand 
Across her features, saying, " Is it thou ? 
Then am I once more well, — -but not for long. 
What must be done, must now be quickly done. 
Take my two hands in thine ; — fear not to fret 
These scratches, — I have been more hurt, and healed." 
Then hoarser voiced : " Draw nearer to my lips, — 
They are rebellious. Valborg, Valborg mine ! 
Long time we've waited, but not all in vain ; 
Love's faith that waits and watches, fearing not. 
Makes life its own great recompense, and death 
Shall do the rest, sifting the right from wrong. 
And joining those erst parted. Valborg mine. 
My life-work were not finished were we twain ; " — 
(Then to the Bishop), " Father, but confirm 
The sanction of the Pope, then shrive my soul, 
Aiid bless us both." 

The eucharist received. 
He fell back feebly, drawing up his knees. 
And murmured huskily: " Sing, Valborg — sing 
That song, — thou knowst the one." 

Standing she sang, 
And eiver and anon brake ofT for weeping, 
But found the phrase and with new strength of wing 



63 



llic Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. 

Upbore it, caught the secret of the song, 
Flew with it heavenward, till the kneeling throng 
Looked up askance and crossed themselves : " Is this 
Our Valborg, or a vision ? " 

Tearless still, 
" I cannot more ! " she said ; then raised one shriek, 
For looking. Axel lay before her dead, 
His glazed eyes turned to her. 

And when the friars 
From Axel's body holp to lighten hers, 
She too had taken flight, — the virgin wife, 
The queen unscarleted, — flown with her song 
And him, — Saint Valborg of the owlet plumes. 



b^ 



/ 



